Pinky Promise
by WordsOfASong
Summary: After a bad day of quidditch practice, Ron yearns for something to take his mind off of it. He finds Hermione and attempts to take her flying, while learning why she has never ridden a broomstick before. Cute one-shot!


_**Pinky Promise**_

_A Harry Potter One-Shot by LiveLaughLovePotter_

**Disclaimer: **rettoP yrraH nwo ton od I.

**Author's Note: **Here it is! Like I promised, I've finally written the one-shot. Keyword: one-shot. There will not be any additional chapters. Sorry. You can urge me to write more to this, but possibility is more likely that I will not. Sorry it took ages for me to post it; I had a lot of revisions to do. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy whatever this turns out to be! Oh, and if you don't understand the disclaimer… read it backwards :)

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"Watch it, Ron!" Ginny snapped as her brother kicked a puff of dirt in her direction upon landing his broom.

Ron donned a look of scorn and sat down on the trunk of quidditch balls. The trunk, bouncing from a couple unruly bludgers strapped in, relaxed under his weight. He punched the side of the wooden trunk in anger. It wasn't as though the injury to his fist would do him any good in his first match. The nerves were eating at his brain, and he was desperate to catch one quaffle at the least.

Hermione sat in the bleachers, as she did every Friday afternoon, watching the Gryffindor team practice their hearts out. She stared at the one red-headed teenager kicking dirt around the field. The color of his face matched the color of his hair, but she did not laugh. She was too concerned.

"Well, not our best practice yet, but come on. Don't get discouraged; we'll pick it up. It's just an off day… just an off day," Harry encouraged. His falsely spirited tone had no effect on the team. He himself was not in the mood to be too energetic after a terrible practice. Their first match with Slytherin was the next week, and his team was nowhere near ready.

Harry shoved Ron off the trunk and grabbed hold of the handle, calling the team off the field.

Ron stood slowly and brushed the dirt from his bum. He crossed the field toward his broom. As he bent down to get it, he bumped heads with Hermione.

"What the fu-," looking up, he saw Hermione's face and instantly held back the string of swear words.

"Sorry!" she cried, rubbing the spot where she bumped her head with her palm. "I was just getting it for you. You know how I watch the practices on Fridays, and well, it looked as though you guys had a bad day. So, I just thought you'd appreciate it if I just got your broom for you because, well, it was quite far away from you," she blurted clumsily and blushed. "I should go. Sorry," she silently called herself an idiot for bumbling on and on.

Ron watched her cheeks redden as she turned to walk away. His heart felt empty. Whatever small skill of quidditch he had in him had disappeared. He needed something to take his mind off the game, the match, the audience. He took hold of her forearm, "Wait."

"What?"

Ron loved the way her eyebrows would knit together in slight confusion, but of course, this rarely happened because Hermione was too logical to deal with nonsense. He paused to think of any possible reason she should stay with him and save him from his misery. The majority of the reason why that day's practice had been unsuccessful was Ron's clumsy nature and inability to catch the quaffle. He needed a pick-me-up.

"Duhyawannaflywifme?" he mumbled as the only thing he could think of.

"What?" she laughed.

"Do you want to fly with me?" he prolonged each word an exaggerated amount.

She cocked her head to the side, "Ron, you know I don't fly," Hermione made a list of things in her head that would convince her to fly. The first thing on that list was if there was a giant library in the clouds that could only be reached by broomstick. The second was if Ron was with her.

"Well, you might as well try. Give it a shot, Hermione. It's just for fun," he teased.

Teasing Hermione was his second favorite thing to do, besides eating. The way the pitch of her voice would raise in heated response made him laugh. Her laugh sent shivers down his spine, and her smile left him tripping over his own words.

"Knowing your luck, we'll both fall off," she didn't feel bad for teasing him. Their bond of friendship was so close-knit that hardly anything could tear them apart for too long.

"Hey! I'm not that bad, you know."

"Sure didn't prove it today," she teased again.

"Hurtful, very hurtful," Ron smiled. Of course he was faking the insulted feeling, but he wanted Hermione to fly with him more than ever before.

"Sorry," she smiled.

"You really don't like flying, do you?"

It wasn't as though Hermione had ever told anyone why she had never flown a broomstick. She had kept it locked up within the boundaries of her head because no one had ever bothered to ask why.

"Obviously not."

"Why?"

Though Hermione had never actually fully ridden a broomstick, from what Ron knew, she never had an explanation for why.

She paused and blushed, "I'm terrified of heights."

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about. What started it?"

"Mum and Dad took me to Paris one summer, and they took me up to the tip-top of the Eiffel Tower. I took one look over the side and vomited. It was absolutely terrifying. It just makes me feel like when I'm up that high, it's so easy for me to fall, and keep falling, so that it's a never-ending fall."

"What do you say we overcome that?"

He wished she would say yes. He really did.

"Absolutely not!"

Hermione's will started to say yes, but she held back. The last thing she wanted to do was to blow chunks all over Ron. How embarrassing that would be!

"Come on, I won't go that high. Promise," he smiled, silently urging her to take his mind off the terrible quidditch practice.

She rolled her eyes, "Pinky promise?" Maybe if they didn't go so high, she would be okay.

"What in Merlin's name is a pinky promise?"

Laughing, she said, "It's just what it sounds like." She took his hand in hers and held up his pinky. She linked it with hers. "When you make a pinky promise, it's a serious vow." She paused with his skeptical look. "No, it really is! When somebody breaks a pinky promise, well, it's just not right. It can ruin a friendship or trust or-"

"I get it," he laughed at the ridiculous muggle tradition and went along with it.

He shook their intertwined pinkies up and down, "So this means you're going to fly with me?"

"As long as you don't break the promise," she knew he wouldn't.

"Alright!" he exclaimed before taking his pinky from hers.

She chuckled at his enthusiasm and watched him grab the old Cleansweep.

"Coming?" he asked as he planted his bum on the broom.

She took slow steps forward and nodded, eying the broom warily. She settled on the broom carefully.

"You ready?"

"Yes," she nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Hermione shrieked and shut her eyes as the broom jerked into the air and clung onto Ron even tighter.

"Sorry!" He cursed himself for being a cruddy flyer. "You alright?"

"Oh, Merlin. Oh, Merlin. Oh, Merlin," he could hear her repeating under her breath.

Ron made sure they remained at a hovering level rather than a soaring level. "I'm not going to let you go, okay?" Their toes skimmed the sand below.

"Yeah," she breathed heavily, feeling the broom rise slowly.

Opening her eyes slowly, she glanced at the ground. They were about ten feet up, but strangely, she felt safe with her arms wrapped around him.

"Go higher."

"What?"

"Go higher."

"What about the pinky promise?"  
>"It's okay, permission granted. Go, before I change my mind."<p>

He soared the broom up above the goal posts, feeling her face nestle in the crook between his neck and shoulder. "You okay?"

"Higher."

"Hold tight."

He waited for her arms to clench his waist and rose the broom up into the clouds.

"Higher."

He laughed, "Hermione, this isn't a Firebolt. Cleansweeps can only go so high." There was no response, "Do you want to go lower?" Even he himself was getting a little nervous at this height. Again, there was no response. "Do you want to see where we are, at least?"

Her head slowly left his shoulder. A few moments passed before she opened her eyes and whispered, "Oh my god!"

Ron started to sink the broom, fearing her anger.

"No, stop," she said. "Leave it,"

Confused, Ron froze and waited for an answer.

"This is absolutely beautiful."

Ron turned his head to the side to glance at Hermione. "What?"

"There's so much space here. It's so," she paused and knitted her eyebrows together, "quiet."

"Um, we can go back to the common room if you want? I'm sure there's a lot of noise there, what with the pre-game party and all."

"No, I like this. I like the quiet and the peace. It's so serene."

"Yeah," he had never thought of it this way.

"Thanks, Ron."

"Anything for you."

The sun was beginning to set, "We'd better get back before Filch catches us," Hermione sighed.

Without a word, Ron tilted the broom downwards and let it drift down to the ground. He climbed off and took Hermione's hands to help her off as well. The broom fell upon the dust.

"Better?"

"Much," she smiled.

Along the walk back to the castle, Hermione talked on and on.

"So, you know, I'd have never thought I'd get over that fear of heights. I don't have an inkling at all as to what changed this. Maybe it was – no, it can't have been. You know what, I don't care! I just feel so free, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. There's so much I feel like I can do! Oh, Merlin. I'll write to Mum; she'll be ecstatic! She's wanted to go back to the Eiffel Tower, but she's much too nervous to bring me with her again. She'll be so pleased now that I think I can do it!"

She spoke quickly, so that there was no room for Ron to input a comment. He resorted to just listening, as that was the only option. Her hand gestures and spirited voice wandered the halls with Ron until they reached the common room.

"You don't usually talk this much," he interrupted her new speech about how one of her mother's greatest ambitions was to fly around the world.

"Sorry," she covered her mouth with her hand.

"It's alright," he laughed. "I like it."

He brushed a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear, his eyes never leaving hers. How he longed to place a hand on her lower back and pull her in close. It took all his resistance not to pull her lips to his.

Hermione searched for some intimation of love or desire in his expression. She found nothing but a blank stare and wished she could just live in the deep blue seas of his eyes. "Maybe-" she croaked. "Maybe we should do this again. I really enjoyed that – the flying and all. Next time, I should-"

Ron took another step closer to her and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her body close to his sweaty quidditch clothes. She didn't mind the stench; she was too preoccupied with the fact that his lips were pressed up against hers. He pulled away quickly and stepped back, "I'm sorry," he scolded himself for being impulsive. He turned his gaze to the floor.

"Why are you sorry?" she whispered, but before he could answer, she kissed him.

They stood there, kissing, in the candlelight of the quiet common room. It was late, and everybody had gone to bed. Ron pulled Hermione with him, lips still locked, onto his favorite chair. Smiling, he pulled her onto his lap and ran his fingers around her neck into her hair.

She pulled away slowly, reluctantly. Relishing the moment, she said, "I really ought to go to bed. It's really late, Ron."

"Do what you must, but promise me one thing?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Flying, first lesson, tomorrow after breakfast."

"Okay," she smiled.

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

He stood and kissed her good night. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, which could make him want to leave her.


End file.
